Shadows of the Past: A Supernatural Suspense Mystery (Shadow Slayers Stories Book 1) by Nellie Steele (read aloud .txt) 📗

“Marcher, oui?” Celine made a walking motion then pointed to herself and the two men.

“Oh, oh, you want to walk. Yes, sure, we can walk, marcher, yes.” He nodded his head. “Ah, oui, on peut marcher.”

Celine nodded her head and smiled, approaching the door and waiting for him to open it for her. Michael opened it, allowing her to exit first, Damien followed behind them. Celine walked them toward the gardens. She pointed to a few flowers, requesting Michael give her the name of them. He obliged, telling her their English names with her practicing each afterwards. Michael corrected her pronunciations when necessary. Halfway through their walk through the garden, Damien noticed the Marquis looking on from a second-story balcony, watching his daughter’s progress. Celine noticed him and waved to him. He waved back before turning to enter the house again.

Afterwards, Celine led them down a path that led to the beach. She smiled at them and looked out over the ocean. “Oh, uh, ocean,” Michael said, pointing to the water. She giggled. “Ocean,” he repeated, looking at her to mimic him.

She glanced at him then looked back at the ocean, “Yes,” she said in a thick French accent, “that is the ocean.”

Michael’s face was struck with astonishment, as was Damien’s. Damien said, “Wait, you speak English?”

“Yes, I speak English.”

“So, why did your father ask me to teach you English?”

“He isn’t aware and I would be grateful if you played along.”

“He isn’t aware? How did you learn?”

“I taught myself. I’m quite clever, you know.”

“Seems so,” Damien said.

“Do I have your cooperation?” she asked, facing them.

“Yeah, I mean, yes, we won’t give you away,” Michael agreed.

“Good.”

“As long as you help us,” Damien said.

“Help you?” Celine looked puzzled.

“Yes, we’re new here and we know very little about, well, anything, do you mind telling us a little about yourself, your father, your family?”

Celine continued to look puzzled. “My name is Celine Devereaux, I am the second daughter of Marquis Gaspard Devereaux. My mother died giving birth to me. When I was a small child, we moved here from Lyon. I don’t understand how this is helping you?”

“Second daughter? So, you have a brother or sister?” Damien asked.

“I have an older sister, Celeste.”

“Is she here?” Michael asked.

“No, she lives in another town across the island. I don’t understand.”

“One more question,” Michael said. “Is there a library in your home?”

“Yes, it is the door across from Papa’s study, where we met. Why all these questions?”

“Why not tell your father you speak English?” Damien said.

“Touché,” Celine said, holding her hands up in defeat. “We should go back.”

The three turned back toward the house. “So, Celine, you’re how old now?”

“I am fifteen, I will be sixteen in four days. Yes, I realize I’m almost a spinster, but I just have no interest in suitors. They all are such a bore. I assume my Papa is hoping you will be the next in line to court me?”

“He mentioned your rather particular taste, yes. And I admit to asking him if I may court you.”

“You can try,” Celine said, stalking off ahead of them and into the house.

The two exchanged a glance. “Let’s try that library,” Michael said. The two made their way to the library, following Celine’s directions. Many books lined the shelves. “Let’s split up and look around.”

“Okay. Oh, how are we supposed to recognize it if we find it? I mean what are the chances it says Book of the Dead on the spine? We should have asked Josie what this book looked like.”

“I don’t know, but it can’t hurt.” They spent hours pouring over every book in the library without finding the specific book. Most of the books were in French. Damien asked Michael the French version of the title before looking over the books. They were just giving up when a gong rang. “What the hell was that?” Michael asked.

“Dinner gong. It announces that it’s time to dress for dinner. We will have to excuse ourselves and say our luggage was lost or something since this is all we have.”

“Okay, with any luck, we won’t need these for much longer,” Michael said, pulling at his collar. “And if we’re really lucky, we won’t have to drink any of that nasty water at dinner.”

At 7 p.m., dinner was served in the house. Michael and Damien enjoyed a cocktail with the Marquis after apologizing for their lack of formal dinner wear and before Celine joined them for the meal.

“Hello, Papa,” Celine said, feigning struggling to get the words out, “how you are?”

“How are you,” Michael corrected and Celine parroted him.

“Ah, very good, my dear, very good,” the Marquis answered in French, beaming with pride over his daughter’s progress.

As they were seated for dinner, a man entered the room in a servant’s uniform, excusing himself and handing a note to the Marquis. The Marquis opened it and read it, surprise apparent on his face. After reading it, he stood abruptly. He muttered a few words to Celine in French then turned to Michael and Damien and said, “My apologies, I have rather urgent business. It appears that I have been called back home by the Crown sooner than I expected. I must prepare to leave at once. I will make arrangements for my daughter to travel early to stay with her sister and her husband. Of course, I would be most grateful if you would accompany her with her nanny on the journey. I will send a rider with a letter to Celeste’s husband, Mr. VanWoodsen, to explain and make sure you are appropriately received.”

Michael and Damien both stood. “Of course, sir. We would be happy to accompany her.”

“Thank you. And please, enjoy your meal.”

After he left the room, they returned to their seats. They had finished the first course when the Marquis returned, holding something behind his back. “Please, be seated.” He waved at them. “I just have a small piece of business with my daughter.” Turning to Celine, he said in French, “Celine,